It was a lamentable day in the history
of this expedition. The horizon to the west was hid in clouds. We left
the camp even before daylight, and as we had camped on the top of a
rim, we knew we had seven or eight miles to go before another view
could be obtained. The next rim was at least ten miles from the camp,
and there was some slight indications of a change.
(ILLUSTRATION: FIRST VIEW OF THE ALFRED AND MARIE RANGE.)
We were now ninety miles from the Circus water, and 110 from Fort
McKellar. The horizon to the west was still obstructed by another rise
three or four miles away; but to the west-north-west I could see a
line of low stony ridges, ten miles off. To the south was an isolated
little hill, six or seven miles away. I determined to go to the
ridges, when Gibson complained that his horse could never reach them,
and suggested that the next rise to the west might reveal something
better in front. The ridges were five miles away, and there were
others still farther preventing a view. When we reached them we had
come ninety-eight miles from the Circus. Here Gibson, who was always
behind, called out and said his horse was going to die, or knock up,
which are synonymous terms in this region.
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